


That Halloween

by BrianJustin4Ever



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2013-09-10
Packaged: 2017-12-26 04:36:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrianJustin4Ever/pseuds/BrianJustin4Ever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Justin must tell Brian about his Halloween as a ten-year old. Takes place post-series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Halloween

“Awww.”

Justin rolled his eyes when he heard Brian’s mocking tone. “What is it?” The blond asked, turning away from his cleaning of Britin’s kitchen.

“You were sooooo cute. Didn’t know you had a rodent fetish.”

“Brian, what the hell are you fucking talking about?”

“This.” Brian leisurely waved around a small, square paper. Justin made a grab for it and Brian moved it out of reach. After a very good scowl, Justin once again went for it only to have his fingers touch air. “Saw ‘please’ Sunshine.”

Justin was about to retort, but a better thought came to mind. This time instead of going for the paper, his fingers brushed a certain spot on Brian’s side, a spot that made Brian squeal even though he’d denied it vehemently if interrogated. Once distracted, Justin grabbed the paper.

The ‘paper’ actually turned out to be a picture. In it, a little ten-year old blond boy was dressed up like a mouse. “Where did you get this?”

“Your mom; she brought over a box of stuff from when you were a brat.” Brian smirked.

“I was never a brat.” Justin snapped.

Brian ignored the comeback. “So, tell me how you came to be dressed up like a mouse.”

Justin shook his head in amusement. “You have heard of Halloween, right?”

“Still, I can’t imagine you choosing to dress up like prey, even at ten. Maybe a cat or something higher up on the food chain, but not a mouse.”

“Okay, I’ll tell you, but this stays between the two of us. At the time, Molly was four and she had been going through a phase where she was constantly copying me. It was annoying.”

“I can imagine,” Brian nodded sagely.

“Well, Molly was determined to dress up that year in whatever costume I dressed up in. She was terrified of mice though, so—”

“So you thought you were safe with your chosen costume,” Brian finished.

“Pretty much, but unfortunately, her desire to copy me overshadowed her fear. So what? I dressed up like a mouse when I was ten. Big fucking deal.”

“What I don’t get is why you stayed as a mouse when you saw your plan backfired.”

“My dad had already bought the costume parts. He said I could either go as a mouse or make a ghost costume out of an old sheet. Frankly, I thought being a mouse was the lesser of two evils.”

“Poor Jussy.” Brian teased.

Justin rolled his eyes and turned away, but was pulled backwards against a strong chest.

“It if makes you feel better, you really were an adorable mouse.”

Justin turned around, making sure Brian’s arms stayed secure around him. “Now who has the rodent fetish?”

Their lips touched in a gentle, probing kiss. Tongues played as hands cupped asses, pulling groins together. Justin broke the kiss and let his lips skim over Brian’s jaw before moving them downwards to Brian’s neck which was nipped playfully.

“Want to know the worst part of that whole Halloween?” Justin asked, lips brushing Brian’s collarbone.

“What?” Brian asked as his hands tweaked nipples through Justin’s thin shirt.

Justin pulled away. “Molly got the flu and wasn’t allowed to go trick-or-treating. I went as a mouse for virtually no reason. Could have been anything I wanted without fear of being copied.”

Brian snickered as he pushed Justin onto the nearby couch, straddling him to stop Justin’s escape, not that Justin was trying very hard. Brian leaned down, whispering in Justin’s ear, “I wonder if there are anymore pictures in that box.” He quickly claimed Justin’s lips, averting any reply that was forthcoming.


End file.
